


craters

by Still_sleepless



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Boy Band, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Coming of Age, Dark Past, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:48:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22585864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Still_sleepless/pseuds/Still_sleepless
Summary: It's terrifying, the choices that we can make in the dark.//Mark finds himself slipping away, further and further into the unknown.
Relationships: Mark Lee/Na Jaemin
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13





	1. to an unknown place

* * *

Do not live passively, create a storm of movement and thunder with your words. Don't do yourself a disservice. You are alive. So, live. Make yourself be heard. 

* * *

It's disgusting, really, just how sweaty they can become. Being trapped, all day, in a room with unreliable AC makes for an awful stench. Even now, as Mark sidesteps to avoid tripping, all he can think about is the waft of sour air that he catches everytime he lifts his arms; damp shirt clinging to the soft plains of his biceps. Whichever executive normalised this level of BO is diabolical and probably a bit of a fetishist, considering how many trainees are allowed to traipse around the company without immediately showering. 

"Hyung," he snaps to attention, looking at the reflection in the misted up mirror. Na Jaemin stands close behind, arms crossed and one foot tapping impatiently. He looks venomous, pretty eyes now narrowed pointedly. "Are you even paying attention?" 

Mark suppresses a sigh, already knowing that Jaemin is not likely to let this go anytime soon. He perceives any disruption during practice as a personal slight towards himself. It's an admirable trait until you're the one at the end of the firing line. For a moment he considers saying, _no, Jaemin-ah. I'm distracted by how badly you reek._ The thought brings a devilish twist to his lips, corners turning up as he tries to maintain his composure.

Jaemin catches the smile regardless, hawk-like vision honing in scrupulously and tuts in disapproval. It sounds like a perfect imitation of their dance teacher's ruthless derision and catches itself against the thorny barbs that are scattered across the surface of Mark's heart.

He bristles, drawing himself up to his full height and throwing his overgrown bangs back with the toss of a hand. "Careful Jaemin. Remember who your elders are." The words are crisp and carefully chosen, holding a heavy weight behind them. Mark waits. 

Mark knows that reality can't be bent to his will. He knows that Jaemin will never, really, mean the words that he says.

That doesn't stop him from trying.

The silence fills them up until it balloons and eventually bursts. Jaemin bows his head slightly, stiff and yet familiar. "I'll do better." Mark brushes it aside and reaches forward to ruffle his hair, self-satisfied grin already blooming. _Who are you?_ A voice stretches across his mind, rifling through the darkness but Mark is already moving on. 

_Spring is always so devastating. Too many ways to say goodbye._

The lyrics pound through the floor, ingraining into both Mark and Jaemin as they dance something far more difficult than either of them had anticipated. The monthly evaluations are coming up and their assigned genre is "contemporary". Which is hard enough on it's own but this month's theme is "love." They laughed when they first saw the info sheet hung up in the common room. 

They aren't laughing now.

Not for the first time, Mark is envious of Jaemin's fluidity. The boy dances like his limbs are boneless, all grace and charm. The choreography requires flexibility that Mark just doesn't possess. His body creaking when he performs a move too suddenly. Jaemin's follows his movements in the mirror and nods approvingly, though Mark doesn't know at what.

 _Is he mocking me?_ He considers the thought briefly before shaking it off. 

Jaemin draws in close and places his hand on Mark's chest, pushing off into a spin before stumbling. He groans loudly, eyes rolling in displeasure. "It's all wrong." He whines, breathing hard and flexing his wrists. Mark agrees. No matter how hard they try, it doesn't come out right.

"I don't know love." He mutters and Jaemin perks up his head, eyebrows raised. "The song - it's about love - I don't know about love", Mark reiterates, flushing slightly with the admission. It's true. While he's had girlfriends, none of them have ever come even remotely close to the concept of love. Infatuation, maybe, but not love. "Do you?" He asks Jaemin on a whim, already knowing the answer. The answer is a quick shake of the head and Mark slumps. They both stand, at a loss as to what they should do.

"Think of what you love the most," Jaemin says suddenly, "what comes to mind when you think of love." Mark opens his mouth to answer before stopping. He feels raw, too vulnerable for comfort. 

Jaemin pauses, hovering in though, before striding across to play the music again.

_Spring is always so devastating. Too many ways to say goodbye._

They dance again, this time holding images of love in their hearts. Mark closes his eyes and pictures - not the moves but - home. It's a suckerpunch that tastes sickly sweet and he lets the taste glaze his insides. _Home_ burns him and he's swinging free, music guiding him. Mark thinks of his family and feels empty, trying to grasp onto the memories of their laughs. _Love is what you make it._ He opens his eyes and sees Jaemin. He's gliding across the floor, like he's free-falling into forever and Mark wonders who _he's_ thinking of. 

The song ends, as all things do and Jaemin laughs, unburdened. _It's finally right_ is what his eyes seem to say.

The practice room door swings open and there's Jeno, arms laden with forbidden snacks and they all scramble freely to feast. Sitting on the floor, Mark takes a bite of something sweet, and tells part of a joke, crumbs spilling as he laughs halfway through. When he finally finishes the joke, the others join him in laughter, loud and sweeping. 

_This is where it begins._ A distant voice says. And it's right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Mark's rap in 7th Sense.


	2. you'll get hurt

Sometimes, only very rarely, Mark dreams of the day that he first left for Korea. 

It always starts the same way.

**He's laughing, something strong and from the very pit of his stomach. As he laughs, his mom shakes her head and pats his head. She looks content as she pushes him towards the airport entrance. She looks the most carefree Mark has ever seen her.**

**In the moments that Mark has taken his eyes off of her, she disappears. His dad is gone too. But Mark keeps going, trying to find the gate for his flight.**

It's here where the dream changes, never staying the same. 

**This time, it flashes to the basement of the building where his dorm is. In the basement that's lit up by white lights, Mark sits alone in front of an open door. He doesn't walk out. He just sits and watches people pass by, all entrenched in their own lives, and sometimes glancing at him while never stopping.**

There's something wrong. Mark awakes in fitful bursts of energy which bruise the delicate places in his mind. He knows that there's no better way than this. The cracks creating crevices in his soul. An imprint of disappointment along the weaker muscles of his heart.

******

They ace the weekly evaluations. Jaemin can't believe it when all the other trainees applaud. He grins so hard that his bottom lip splits open when their instructors pile praise upon them. All Mark can do is nod, taking his time to bask in the moment before stoically returning to his seat. He doesn't miss the way Jaemin's eyes follow his path.

Jaemin looks at Mark like he's the sun playing a farce, a smoke-screen covering the rays under a veneer of disillusionment. He looks at Mark like he can see the semblance of humanity that can't possibly still be there.

Jaemin looks and Mark runs, a game with no end and no clear beginning.

_It doesn't matter,_ he wants to say. 

Because _really_ , it doesn't. There's no time to live in the present, not when the future is defined by tumultuous uncertainty, and Mark is more and more aware of this with each passing day. Momentary praise won't give him what he wants, let alone what he needs.

_Jaemin-ah. It's a race to the top and we're never gonna reach the finish line at this point._

Mark falters, the thought repeating like a broken record before he fixes it. Everything else becomes white-noise as he erases the words, scrubbing them clean from his mind.

_I will. I'll reach it._

He doesn't know that he's sinking into the unthinkable. 

But people rarely do, don't they?

They sit and watch the other trainees go through the unnerving motions of being evaluated. Jisung is rapping, something poppy and fast. During the rap, he dances harshly, like the music isn't guiding him but the other way round.

  
_The moment we part, I already miss you._

Jisung's eyes are nervous, flitting back and forth and observing everyone's reactions. For a moment, their eyes meet and Mark's heart clenches. He looks too small to be up there. But Jisung doesn't mess up, not even as he's shaking under all the pressure that he's holding up. Mark can't help but smile.

_I don’t want us to be apart, so_

He hears a muffled chuckle from his side as Jisung raps this. Turning, he spots one of the others covering their mouth. It's Yuta, grinning gleefully at Jisung's stony admission of love. Mark shares Yuta's amusement but keeps his expression neutral.

_Should we run away together?_

_Even if I had to abandon my career,_

_I would still be happy,_

Upon hearing this, Mark has to stop himself from laughing openly at the idea of it. Abandoning your career for love? Bullshit.

_My pulse will always be racing, I’m crazy_

_That’s what you do. Please help me_

There's a desperate look on Jisung's face, like he's pleading for someone to take him seriously, to stop viewing him as just another wanderlust kid, searching for any opportunity to hit it big. Mark, for all his flaws, has never thought of Jisung as just a kid. From the very first moment, he realised just what Jisung is.

An opponent. 

The label didn't stop affection from blooming, though. The quiet fondness burst forth and Mark resents his emotions because there's no use for any of it. In the end, they're all competing and he won't let his feelings sway his actions.

Breathing harshly, Jisung is marked by determination, his stance wide-set and his eyes perpetually watery.

He's a kid.

_He's someone to watch out for._

Mark grits his teeth and ignores the mutterings of his subconscious. 

Jisung stops rapping, dropping his microphone behind him before diving into a dance break and Donghyuck, who has been standing in the shadows, steps into the centre to sing.

_As you look at me, your eyes drive me crazy_

He makes it through one line before his voice breaks and he fumbles.

Donghyuck's cheeks turn pink under the lights that show every flaw in high definition. 

Mark hears Jaemin breathe in sharply directly to his left. He looks and sees Jaemin mouthing the lyrics in an exaggerated fashion before Donghyuck picks up again. His voice soars high above the instrumental and he seems to recover from the blunder.

Jaemin's mouth is parted, eyes hyper-focused on the performance and he only relaxes once the music ends. Jeno and Jaemin clap the loudest and Mark feels oddly detached. Jeno and Jaemin are relatively new, having joined a couple months ago but Donghyuck is even newer. Why they seem so invested in his success is beyond his comprehension.

Mark wouldn't know. He doesn't seem to have any time for friendships lately.

As they both sit back down, Mark makes sure to fist-bump Jisung who looks grateful, smile hitting Mark's defences like enemy ammunition. After a split-second of hesitation, he offers one to Donghyuck as well. His cheeks are still flooded with red and he accepts it toothily.

"You did well, hyung!" He whisper-yells, voice catching again on the word _hyung_. 

Mark only nods wordlessly, head tilting backwards as he registers Donghyuck calling him _hyung_.

He doesn't bother to correct him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel like this came out okay.
> 
> Title from Mark's rap in Firetruck by NCT-127. Lyrics in the chapter are from A.D.T.O.Y by 2PM.


	3. stop in place

* * *

We come from the earth only to make savages of ourselves and return to the earth once more. 

* * *

Above the city of Seoul are countless stars that burn endlessly. Taeyong is laughing at something that Johnny's said, probably retelling the story of Jaehyun walking into the girl's toilets accidentally earlier today. He darted out as soon as he realised, blustering out a pitiful explanation as the female trainees teased him. It was freeing to let go of all the expectations that weigh them down and to just _be_. 

To just be kids.

Winter will come too soon. Mark can't stop time any more than he can face the truth.

Right now, Jaehyun is laying beside Mark on a picnic blanket that they stole from a manager who dotes on them with a delicate kind of care. Jaehyun's eyes are shut and his earphones are firmly placed in. If you pay attention, there's a tinny melody playing out. Mark doesn't care to listen though, wordlessly watching the sky as if some kind of answer will drop down into his lap. 

An answer for a question that he doesn't dare to ask. Not even in the recesses of his own mind.

So many stars. All already dead but still hanging on, each still inhabiting a solitary space in the canvas of the universe. They're stitched into the fabric of existence until the end of all things eventually comes about. Not for the first time, Mark wonders when that will be. Maybe it's already happening.

_For us at least. Stuck to repeat each day, hoping for something that may never happen. If this isn't hell then I hope to never die. Nothing can be worse._

Ultimately, Mark realises that he's not a star. He's an asteroid, merely a chunk of space rock wandering around aimlessly and destined to never reach anything meaningful. Time is designated to be an extraterrestrial blip, simply words drawn in the sand. Life will be swept away the moment the tide comes in. It's a terrible feeling; to know your existence is inconsequential. 

Mark is cosmic dust and so, tonight he watches the stars in search of something more.

For a single, solitary, second the lattices of the sky are ripped apart, through the darkness of the void, a streak of silver colours the heavens. A shooting star. Mark almost makes a wish but a wish is just another word for a prayer. 

Prayers won't do anything. We can't pin our hopes on prayers when all the gods aren't listening anymore.

This world was crafted from blood and from water. They were borne not out of malice but of despair and Mark knows that their efforts will waste away, a mere shadow carried through on a dying autumn breeze. 

Jaehyun twists besides him, opening his eyes and blinking slowly while taking out an earbud. "Mark." He says quietly enough for only the both of them to hear and Mark makes a sound that originates high in his chest as if to say _yeah?_ "Wanna hear?" Jaehyun doesn't wait for an answer, popping the bud into Mark's ear and laying back down. This time he's closer than before, tapping the beat out on the picnic blanket between their hands. 

They both watch the stars.

And the stars stare back.

**

To be disarmingly effervescent must be the greatest gift. It's all Mark wants and he wants it even harder when the moonlight wanes and he finds himself alone in a tiny practice room. It's a school night but he doesn't remember the last time he'd listened to talk of curfews and punishments and felt _anything_ other than apathy.

Mark just needs to burn. To glow brighter than anything else and then burn out like a candle in the wind. He's dancing feverishly, cycling through movements that lift his limbs like heavy cinders. On the wall the clock ticks again and again. Time blurs into a memory of what he should be rather than what he has been and Mark can't remember who he's doing this for anymore.

Himself?

Maybe.

They say that life is ephemeral. Mark should be beautiful because out of all the people that could have been, he was blessed with life. 

It's not true. He's beautiful for so much more. The way that he laughs, from the front of his throat. The way he sneezes when the sun shines across his eyes. At night when he sleeps, the way his eyes flutter under his eyelids amongst indescribable dreams.

Mark is beautiful because he's chosen to live in search of something greater but he can't see past the reach of his arms, trapped in a infinite hold towards the ceiling.

There have been whispers, recently, tumbling down from the higher ups in the company, about gathering the most promising trainees. The news reached Mark like a morning fire, grabbing onto the lace that lines his lungs and sparking embers in the insecurity that lays dormant in his stomach. There's ash in the air and Mark has been suffocating for longer than he can remember. 

He's not dancing anymore, breathing hard as he taps against his reflection. One hit hard enough and he could break the entire thing to the ground. Enough shards to rain down against him. 

Mark may be beautiful but he's seen the others and he knows he can't compete. 

Casting his thoughts back, Mark recalls the way their instructor had purposely rearranged their choreography to place Jeno in the centre.

 _Lee-fucking-Jeno_. 

Suddenly, Mark is seething, quiet anger frothing just out of sight.

_Lee Jeno wouldn't know a good opportunity if it hit him in the face._

Turning off the sound system, Mark wipes at his sweat and tries not to focus on the way his heel doesn't rest comfortably on the ground. 

_If even he gets a chance, then what does that make me?_

The pain in his foot is enough to make him grit his teeth but the sting from realising that he'll forever be falling behind everyone else is what really gets to him.

_There are prettier trainees than me. Trainees that have talent in tenfold._

Mark punches the mirror before his tears can fall. He hits his reflection more times than he can rationally count, eyes glassy from unshed tears. He leaves the practice room silently, knuckles bloody and chest tight with ugly emotion.

The street lights cast a golden spotlight on his disappoint, shoulders drooping with the uselessness of his thoughts and Mark ponders on how he's always moving from one place to another. Yet, he never seems to reach a destination, always stuck in the liminal spaces that time has offered up feebly.

He's still blazing past everyone and everything without care for the consequences. 

Kicking through the chromatic colours of a grease puddle, Mark pretends he's happy.

A voice echoes back from somewhere he can't comprehend. 

_You will be._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title taken from Mark's rap in Chewing Gum by NCT DREAM.


	4. they were all chasing dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My update schedule is nonexistent and for that I'm sorry.

Mark begins to notice a change in himself when summer gives way to autumn. Or rather, he begins to notice the change in how others react to him. Where once, the other trainees had regarded him with a casual companionship, now they give him a wide berth. 

The difference is most pronounced amongst the female trainees. Girls he's known for many months now avoid his eyes. At first Mark had assumed that he'd committed some social faux pas without realising. That is, until he noticed the gentle blush that Koeun adopts every time he speaks and the way Hina might avoid his eyes but still stares when she thinks he isn't looking.

 _Oh._ He thought when the penny dropped. _Oh._ He thought again when his vocal teacher commented on how Mark should _stop scowling all the time, it's intimidating the other trainees._

Mark's on the roof again, alone this time. His phone is cast aside, face down. 13 hours. That's the time difference between Canada and Korea. It's a lifetime for Mark who wants to see the sun but hides every time the light touches his skin. Nobody picked up. Three times and three empty lines, the ringing shrill and seemingly louder in the dark. 

It's hard to keep asking for the sun only to get the moon and it's stars in return. The moon means something different to him, a secret kept close and denial kept closer. Mark has grown two inches. Mark wants his parents. Mark is so lonely. It's the rule of three again, hammering it's sadistic claws into his resolve.

It's the loneliness that waits here. A sucker punch that catches him in his weakest moments, emotions a mosaic slotted uncomfortably into an open chest cavity. Mark needs his parents and Mark is afraid. Neither of these things are mutually exclusive because before, there had been a chance of escape, of running back into open arms and leaving behind all these worries that plague every waking second of every dawning day.

_Would they recognise me? Would they see passed the awkward posture and gangly limbs and know who I am?_

Mark doesn't know. Mark can't go back. At one point of his life Mark had breathed out starlight the same way others expelled carbon. He is no longer the boy that left home. That person is dead now. He's something else entirely.

And even in this new body, he's still no closer to the end.

This place is stuck in limbo.

What do people become when there's nothing left?

One consistency that Mark has clung to is that - no matter how much he may change - the older trainees don't treat him in any way other than what's normal.

Despite knowing this, the surprise still rises when Doyoung walks up to him with Donghyuck in tow. 

"You're going to do the evaluation with us this month," Doyoung announces emphatically, beads of water flying with every quick syllable. The pattering of rain against the windows had been lulling Mark into a daze, but now he's wide awake, staring upwards in confusion.

"Donghyuck and I," Doyoung reiterates in the no-nonsense way that Mark is used to, "we need another person to perform in the monthly evaluations and we thought you'd be perfect." 

Mark remembers that Donghyuck is here, though he hasn't said a word. _Is Doyoung is holding him hostage?_ "You'll join, right?" Doyoung asks. It sounds like a demand, and judging by the tone of his voice, _no_ is not an option. Not unless Mark is looking to lose the privileges that Doyoung doles out to those in his good books. Like _ice cream._ Copious amounts of _ice cream._ Mark feels himself salivating at the very idea, and now wishes that he had eaten lunch. 

_"Right?"_ Doyoung repeats again, a dangerous edge to his voice, completely unaware of Mark's food fantasy.

Mark startles, wiping at his mouth quickly before leaning against the mirror and sitting up properly. "Yeah?" He says uncertainly, deciding not to overthink it and face Doyoung's wrath.

As if a switch has been flipped, Doyoung breaks out into a breath-taking smile, tension - that Mark hadn't noticed - leaving his muscles like air. "As expected of my favourite junior. I'll treat you later. Ice cream?" He proposes casually, still grinning with joy.

Mark almost chokes on air. _What is this black magic trickery?_

Watching Doyoung closely with suspicion, he nods. "Sure..." To Mark's disappointment, that's the end of the magic show as Doyoung promises to text after his vocal lessons. Which leaves Mark and Donghyuck to sit in an uncomfortable silence. 

Closing his eyes, he goes back to the awkward half-lying position he had been in before, listening carefully for the tell-tale shuffling of Donghyuck leaving. It doesn't come.

"I'm glad we're working together, hyung." The air is oppressive and Mark finds himself holding his breath, not moving at all, muscles tensing ever so slightly. He starts counting to ten in this position, almost unable to keep the numbers straight in his head.

When he opens his eyes, Donghyuck is gone, only empty air where he had been. Mark finally breathes, lungs burning, and ignores the feeling that something is about to go wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Mark's rap in Limitless by NCT-127.


End file.
